


so i can shake you

by boxerzayn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, The 80s AU, also some sort of late 80s au??????? or maybe 90s, based of the song 'thirteen', idk - Freeform, not just fluffy though or like, ok, super fluffy, super short??????, they're like 14?????
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:32:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxerzayn/pseuds/boxerzayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>and liam tries to contain how much he adores zayn, but it slipps out through his eyes, harry tells him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so i can shake you

**Author's Note:**

> i dont own them lalala also sorry its so fricken short

zayn smokes sometimes when he’s with danny and ant and liam thinks they’re, well, they’re nice lads and all, but he’s a bit scared of them. zayn is still shorter, skinnier, softer.   
he smells a bit more like smoke and cologne nowadays, but when liam cuddles up next to him it feels just the same, like when they were ten and liam taught zayn how to build spaceships with lego and his mother baked cookies for them on fridays.

they’re fourteen, and they’re findig themselves and all, and maybe it’s just a bit hard for liam to just. to deal with it. with zayn running off and not taking bike rides with him as much anymore, and smoking behind school, and wearing his uniform messily and missing their bussride home.  
‘cause liam has always been so sensible but he hasn’t been anything without zayn, has no fuel if there isn’t a zayn.

and it’s hard too, when he’s in the shower and wanking off and he tries to push away zayns languid lips from his mind and his furrowed eyebrows when he’s worried and his slank fourteenyearold body, because he can’t think like that, because zayn is his best mate that helped him with his art project and just bought a skateboard and got them a beer from his friend ed that night and - just.  
zayn is so touchy, so soft. it’s like his fingers linger on liam as if they’re stuck and it’s the universes way of keeping the two of them together; “zayn, don’t get lost.”   
and liams heart starts beating so fast, so easily, and he has to breath in because zayn smells like burnt and his eyelashes are so long and his smile towards liam so earnest and liam tries to contain how much he adores liam but it slips out of his eyes, harry tells him.  
and harry’s only thirteen and liams’ puffy neighbour but he understands enough that when he hangs out with zayn and liam, he notices.

liam calls zayn one day, a tuesday afternoon when it’s october and the dance is in two weeks and liam has talked about it once, that evening when they shared their first beer on that bench outside the park. zayn had smiled at him, that goofy grin that makes liam anxious but forget it the second later, and he’d told liam that if he could get tickets, (“they’re ten quidd so how bad can you want them, eh?”), then he’d gladly go with liam even though he can’t dance for shit.  
zayn picks up on the first ring, and liam can tell right away that he’s a bit stressed.  
 “hey” liam says, and his sweaty fingers grip the tickets.   
“hey, listen, i gotta run to the restaurant, have to work tonight.” and it stabs in liams heart as much as it usually does, because zayn is so unselfish, helping his parents out at work.   
“oh,” he says, and it comes out clingier and weaker than he wants it to, “could you meet me at our bench then, afterwards? y’know the-“   
“i know wich bench, liam.” zayn says, and liam can here his smile on the other end and, no, maybe zayn isn’t going anywhere. maybe he’s stil liams.   
“it’s _our _bench,” says zayn lightly, before hanging up.  
and liam doesn’t know who he is the mess of this part of bradford, but he knows he loves zayn.__

zayn showes up at their bench, the one where they shared the very first beer. it tasted like shit but they laughed and it felt a little special and zayns eyes sparkled because it was fullmoon and september and liam is pretty sure zayn has the sky in his eyes and the earth in his body even though he’d never tell.   
zayns cheeks are painted black from the shadows of his eyelashes, and his smile glows in the half-dark of the night. liam adores him so much that his stomach turns.  
"so what was so imporant, then, mysterious mr liam?" zayn smirks and sits down next to liam, too far away.  
 “so. i got tickets for the dance” he scrunches his face and waits for zayn to laugh, but when he looks over zayn looks young and shy and he needs to come closer.   
“i can’t dance, liam” he says.  
“‘m not gonna make you come” liam tries.   
zayn chokes out a laugh and liams cheeks flush at the wrongness of what he just said.   
“‘s alltight” zayn says. “allright, i mean,” and then they’re laughing loudly and a dog barks in the distance and liam is so alive, so aware, this is his life, this is his town, this is zayn, this is their bench, these are their jokes. vzayn has still got his waiter clothes on and he’s beautiful and when their laugh quietens, he looks so soft in the yellow glow of the streetlight, and liam needs to be closer.   
“i don’t know if i can, anyways” zayn says quietly, and liam inhales his smell and zayn put on cologne before this.   
and liam is fourteen and blood rushes to his face and dick uncontrollably a bit all the time.   
“i gotta help my dad with the restaurant, and stuff. y’know”   
“yeah, i know,” liam says, sees the look on zayns face, too tired for being so young, and he has to allow himself to be a little selfish. for them, to be.   
“screw your dad,” liam squeaks out and blushes, “you said you were gonna break free more, zayn.” and it’s not angry, not pushy, but it’s needy, needy, needy.   
“yeah, i know. i remember.” zayn mumbles and his eyelashes brush over his cheeks and just. his fucking eyelashes.

 

liam lies in his bed that night, and he wants zayn so close and he wants to dance with zayn, wants to be romantic with zayn. to hell with zayns dad.

friday rolles in, and it’s the dance, and liams tickets are lying bare on his drawer, and his heart is beating fast enough but there’s a knock on the door and zayn is early, off course he’s early, today of all days.  
 he’s dressed in his white shirt he has when he’s at the restaurant, but it’s ironed, and his hair is yelled up and liam almost chokes because of the overwhelming fondness that rushes over him.   
“you look sorta beautiful” he squirts out and it’s unstobable then, hanging in the air between them.   
zayn smiles. “thanks.” liam takes his bike to the dance, and zayn skates besides him. it’s not like when they were younger but it’s kinda, better.  
they don’t say much, the tense yet confusingly familiar, relaxed air between them is enough, as usual.  
 liam looks at zayn alot, and zayn is so stunning, and sometimes he looks at liam too.   
they get to the dance and liam gives the girl their two tickets and as they enter the floor, his hands are sweating but zayn looks the most nervous.  
they dance and liams hips sway and zayns sway too, in just the right time to fit the music and the other peoples an liams, and he looks a little shy and insecure but liam squeezes his shoulder, and he can do that. liam wants him closer, really, but the air between them is really fucking great. and zayns smile and his eyes and his hands on liams waist burning into liams skin like lit cigarettes and everything, is really fucking great. a little too much for liams fourteen year old brain to hold, acually. (it probably spills through his eyes.)  
the last dance is one of those slow, soft, sticky ones, and the people around them are clinging to each other, and liam whispers “we don’t have to” to zayn, because. he’s not gonna make him. but zayn pulls him in, puts his chin on the chunk of meat between liams shoulder and neck and, they’re so close.  
“no, c’mhere” he says, tugging on his liam, and liam won’t say no, he wants to be selfish tonight.   
they press close together and the purple light on zayns white shirt is beautiful and the night is beautiful and only them two exist and they’re finally; close.

 

liam falls asleep easier that night, with zayn curled around his back, and maybe he should be the bigger spoon because he is a bit taller than zayn, but. zayns soft breathing in his neck just makes sense, and when he wakes up again, the other boy is even closer.  
liam too, is gonna smell like smoke tomorrow, and maybe his mum’s going to get mad. “zayn?” he whispers, but regrets it again, when zayn shifts behind him.  
“yeah?”  
“are you awake?” liam mumbles, and he feels zayns nose crincle in his neck out of laughter. “obviously” he replies. “what’re you thinking about?”  
there’s a short moment where liam sucks in his breath and zayn breathes behind him and a little sticky skin rips away from liams back and-  
“we’re still best mates, you and me, right?” liam’s voice is shakier than he wants it to be.  
“it’s you and i,” zayn corrects, but it’s fond.  
“but y’know, i’d rob a bank for us two, zayn, like, would you?” and zayn doesn’t even breathe before he whispers ‘yes’ into liams skin and it’s almost like a kiss and liams head is spinning. “yes, yes, yes”  
“don’t! though,” liam smiles even though zayn can’t see it.  
(he wonders if maybe zayn can though. liam can always see when zayn’s smiling, if its through pitch black darkness or through the phone, but he doesn’t really care. he loves zayn and zayn loves him and they’re only fourteen.)


End file.
